Rage like a mountain There’s nothing new. But there is a new urgency I can’t ignore or discount – to do so would be futile, and frankly, cowardly. It appears that I’ve come to a place of no return with critical parts of my life that have always been up for negotiation. Like the movement of tectonic plates, a deep and radical shifting of my priorities. I find myself, with some regularity these days, shaking with rage. I feel also, and at the same time a profound sense of deep and steady calm, no less intense and alive than the anger. The word Ferocious comes to mind. I have somehow expanded my capacity to contain Ferocity. It feels quite safe in a dangerous sort of way. I’m mindful of a need for care. While I read for my masters. While I make buffalo stew. While I use my chainsaw to cut firewood, practise new bow technique on my cello. While I write, sew, draw, listen to Joni Mitchell and RVW Symphony number 9 for work and pleasure. While I think about wise, strong people who have been denied a voice of their own for far, far too long. It’s difficult to put my finger on the ‘why now’ of this. I think that doesn’t matter. It’s the thundercloud that matters. I will do the things I do for better reasons. I’ll learn to do other things, because they need to be done.